om the pier-end, to which his
father's shouted reply was that he must bide a minute and he would
come to see himself.

"The yoong beggar's got the use of his eyes," he said, not hurrying.
"I'll go bail he'll find her. She's there all right, I suppose?" He
was still referring to the hencoop, not to any lady.

"Ah, _she's_ there, quite safe. You'd best step along and find her.
Boys are boys, when all's told."

But Jacob wanted Benjamin to distinguish himself, and still didn't
hurry. The strange appearance of Mrs. Lobjoit's gentleman supplied
materials for chat. Presently his son shouted again, and he answered,
"Not there, is she? I'll come." He walked away towards the pier-end
just as Sally, who had fancied Jeremiah would be somewhere
alongside of the pagoda-building that nearly covered it, came
back from her voyage of exploration, and looked down the steps to
the under-platform, that young Benjamin had just come up shouting.

What little things life and death turn on sometimes!

CHAPTER XLV

OF CONRAD VEREKER'S REVISION OF PARADISE, AND OF FENWICK'S HIGH FEVER.
OF AN ENGLISH OFFICER WHO WAVERED AT BOMBAY, AND OF FENWICK'S
SURPRISE-BATH IN THE BRITISH CHANNEL. WHY HE DID NOT SINK. THE
ELLEN JANE OF ST. SENNANS. ONLY SALLY IS IN THE WATER STILL. MORE
BOATS. FOUND!

Fenwick, haunted by the phantoms of his own past--always, as his fever
grew, assuming more and more the force of realities--but convinced of
their ephemeral nature, and that the crisis of this fever would pass
and leave him free, had walked quickly along the sea front towards the
cliff pathway. Had Dr. Conrad seen him as he passed below his window
and looked up at it, he would probably have suspected something and
followed him. And then the events of this story would have travelled
a different road. But Vereker, possessed by quite another sort of
delirium, had risen even earlier--almost with the dawn--and, taking
Sally's inaccessibility at that unearthly hour for granted, had gone
for a long walk over what was now to him a land of enchantment--the
same ground he and Sally had passed over on the previous evening. He
and his mother would be on their way to London in a few hours, and he
would like to see the landmarks that were to be a precious memory for
all time yet once more while he had the chance. Who could say that
he would ever visit St. Sennans again?

If Fenwick, in choosing this direction first, had a half-formed
idea of attract